


American Dreamers: An Encounter Before the Outbreak

by TheCabinKey



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nivanfield, Raccoon City, chrisxpiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCabinKey/pseuds/TheCabinKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon being discharged from the United States Air Force, Chris Redfield coasted the U.S. and found a new home: Raccoon City. Before taking Barry Burton's advice to apply for the S.T.A.R.S. Police Force, he found a brief job (substitute) teaching a subject at the local high school that applied to him most: Athletics Class. Here, Chris first encounters Piers Nivans, who at the time was a senior student, and a risky relationship that involves both passion and a strong connection that sets them up for the havoc-laden future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Dreamers: An Encounter Before the Outbreak

**Author's Note:**

> -One could say this is a 'pocket' au fanfic, the story of Resident Evil should carry on normally after this despite Chris and Piers having met each other.  
> -The character's ages may not be exactly accurate.  
> -Here, I pictured/described RE5 Chris, but picture him however you like!  
> And lastly, enjoy! I put in some underlying things that allude to the future games.

The wooden table tops of Café: Red, White, and Blue were being scrubbed down to rid of the crums and circles of coffee. Piers took the gray rag and threw it into the bucket beside him, then stacked the chairs on top of the table. He sighed, and looked out the front windows. It was getting darker, so he could see his own reflection much clearer. Piers examined his eighteen year old body self-consciously. He was somewhat toned, but he still scoffed.  
Once the place was locked up, he walked home to his apartment. Inside, he walked past a cabinet, in which he threw his keys on top beside a deflated football and small trophy. There were various bottles and empty chip bags on the coffee table by the small, boxy television. His parents weren't around to clean up after him, as they lived off on the outskirts of Raccoon City. Piers moved out because he couldn't stand the long commute to high school and his job, along with his friends.  
He threw a piece of left-over pizza in the microwave, and stared out his kitchen window bordered by steamy turquoise tiles. Although the apartment was small, he had a wonderful view of the city being on the top, third floor. Behind the lights of the city, Piers could barely make out the outline of the Arklay Mountains. 

 

“I wonder why we're starting athletics class inside,” Piers said to Steve as they walked to room 307 with their gym strip.  
“I guess it's because of the new teacher. Mr. Robson was too old for sports. Poor guy,” they both chuckled, and Steve pretended to trip Piers.  
The boys walked in and took their seats at the back of the room. The final bell rang, and Piers instantly noticed a large American flag draped above the white board that wasn't there before.  
“Rather patriotic, isn't it?” said Steve.  
Piers didn't take his eyes off it. It had turned an off-white color, clearly used. It didn't look obnoxious, although. Still gazing at it, Piers noticed a dark spot come into his view. He glanced down, and realized it was the top of the new teacher's head.  
The man was tall. He had dark brown hair, along with a light, nine o' clock shadow. He sat down at the teacher's desk in the corner of the room without saying anything. His biceps were noticeably thick, and his baggy white shirt couldn't conceal his muscular torso. The man was massive. He had a whistle hanging from around his neck, and another key rope was hanging out of his pocket, presumably for his car keys.  
“Alright,” he said as he quickly rubbed his hands together. He got out of his desk and stood before the rows of students, scanning the room.  
“My name is Mr. Redfield. I'm sure you all know that Mr. Robson has taken a leave of absence. I'm a very fit person myself, I like my exercise, so hopefully I can help you guys out but make the course challenging too.”  
He wasn't speaking very loud. His words were confident, but he also seemed a little nervous with it being his first day. At this point, Piers decided that he looked to be about thirty.  
“So we're starting our football unit today, and I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I hope to.”  
Piers noticed a different quality in the new teacher. There was a seriousness in him that Mr. Robson didn't have.  
“You all know the basic rules, you're seniors. I only have a few myself. I want you to try your absolute best. I want to see effort. I don't care if it takes you thirty minutes to run around the track. If I see you pushing yourself to do better, then you've done your job. My only other rule is respect. Respect me, respect your classmates.”  
Mr. Redfield took a deep breath, “Should we go outside?”  
“You have to take attendance,” said a blond girl at the front.  
“Oh, right,” he picked up a checklist off the desk and examined it, then started calling out the names. Piers' heart rate accelerated. He re-adjusted himself in his seat and tried to look as casual as possible.  
Steve leaned over to him, “He seems cool.”  
“Yeah,” he smiled back, but he wasn't paying attention to Steve. Mr. Redfield continued down the list, and every 'here' that Piers heard, the thumping in his chest became more intense.  
“Piers,” he called his name.  
“Uh, here!” Piers looked down, but caught a glimpse of the teacher taking a quick second look at him, then moving on. Upon finishing the attendance, the class headed outside to the turf where a crate of footballs lay.  
“Grab a partner, and warm up by throwing the ball back and forth. Practice your form. Maybe even move farther apart once you feel comfortable with throwing,” Mr. Redfield instructed the class. Knowing Piers would choose him as a partner, Steve grabbed a ball and distanced himself from him. The other students did the same thing.  
“This should be easy,” yelled Piers. “All I have to do is aim for that red hair of yours!”  
He started laughing to himself, and Steve cursed at him. Piers looked down the turf, still laughing but hoping the teacher didn't hear. Instead of helping Nicholas, who could only seem to throw the ball a few feet from him, Mr. Redfield was gazing past the field. It looked as though he was looking at the red light on the rooftop of the Raccoon City Police Department. Nicholas fell on his ass, breaking the teacher out of his trance. At that moment, a football pelted Piers in the face.  
“Oh shit!” yelled Steve. “Sorry man!”  
“It's alright, I'll get you next time, Burnside!” he joked.  
“Buddy, you okay?” Mr. Redfield called. He saw the little incident.  
“Never been better!” Piers gave him a thumbs up confidently, but underneath, he was embarrassed. Thankfully, the red mark left by the football disguised his pink cheeks.

After school, Piers and Steve hoofed it to Café: Red, White, and Blue.  
“Hi Diane, I'm here to check my work schedule. Can you get Steve and I a bottle of soda?” asked Piers.  
“Sure thing,” she said. Piers looked at his list of shifts. He worked a lot, but rent was always due, and without his parents living with him, he needed as many shifts as he could get.  
“1.50 please,” she placed one bottle down on the counter, with two straws coming out the top.  
“Oh good one,” Piers said sarcastically. Diane killed herself laughing as she grabbed him a second one.  
“Yeah that's more like it,” said Steve. Piers handed her the proper amount of money in coins, and the two boys sat down at a table near the window. The sun was beaming through.  
“It's rumored that there's a cult up in the Arklays,” said Steve.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. There's a mansion up there. Rick says him and his buddies went exploring off the Arklay Trail and saw some weird shit.”  
“Huh, strange,” Piers responded, not listening very closely. Steve took a long sip of his soda, then continued talking.  
“If there's one thing I hate,” he said, “It's prison. I can't imagine being thrown into a box and being stripped of all your rights and freedoms.”  
He shivered.

Piers sat beside the wide windowsill in his modest living room. The window was wide open, but the screen was closed to stop bugs from flying in. A calm, instrumental guitar song was playing from the cheap radio across from him. Even at ten p.m. one could see the city lights. The place was still alive, strangely enough.  
Piers thought about his lifestyle: buddies, drinking, school, work, barely being able to pay rent each month. He loved it, and he hoped the transition from Raccoon High School to Raccoon University, or maybe even moving away to join the military, will be smooth. He knew he had to savor every day, but tomorrow was a new one, and the week ahead had a discovered, but fresh desire in it's path. 

 

“When your not looking, I'm gonna break your nose this time, so let's make sure we're football partners again,” assured Steve.  
“Sounds like a plan buddy,” responded Piers.  
The pair headed to athletics class in room 307, seeing other classmates along the way. They stepped in and saw Mr. Redfield already sitting at his desk. He had his nose in a military-related paperback book, exposing his biceps while holding it. Steve took note of the blond girl at the front pumping out her chest, and scoffed at her obvious intentions. Meanwhile, Piers headed straight to his desk right at the back, avoiding any possible eye-contact with the teacher.  
“Good afternoon soldiers.” He put down the novel, clearly being influenced by it's content. The final bell rang and the class was full with students. For the second time in his life, Mr. Redfield took attendance, then stood in the middle of the class under the worn out American flag he most likely put up.  
“With a show of hands, how many of you work out?”  
Everyone looked at each other, then two people put up their hands. Piers remembered the primitive weight set sitting beside his bed that he never seemed to use anymore, and slowly put up his hand. Mr. Redfield shifted his gaze to Piers. Piers couldn't help but smile at his dark brown eyes (yet in the light, they appeared to be blue. The fuck?), stubble, and large forehead that was perfectly proportional to the rest of his face.  
“This is athletics class, and part of the curriculum is physical health.”  
The teacher sauntered over to Piers' desk, then without hesitation, grabbed each side and lifted it up to the level of his chest with Piers still sitting in it. Veins bulged in his arms, but he didn't seem to be struggling. As shocked as Piers was from this sudden action, he got a rush out of the man's power. Their faces were close. Mr. Redfield winked at him, then gently put him back down. The rest of the class stared in astonishment.  
“But remember, it never hurts to do some extra exercise or weight lifting outside of our hour and twenty minute course,” he said as he walked away. Piers blushed, but had no red marks on his face to hide it this time. 

Out on the turf, Steve was throwing the ball, and Piers was running to catch it. He jumped and caught it methodically, and seconds later it was back in Steve's hands with a seamless throw. Mr Redfield was watching them, and he came over as they were switching roles.  
“Piers, do you play football outside of school?”  
“I used to, I was in the Raccoon High Football Club, but then I got a job,” he laughed, trying to act as natural as possible.  
“Heh, isn't that always the case. Where do you work?”  
“Café: Red, White, and Blue.”  
“Where's that at?”  
“You don't know? It's here, uptown.”  
“I haven't lived here for very long. Anyways, keep at it. You too, Steve.” The teacher proceeded to walk away, watching the other students practicing their running and catching skills before they started a game.  
“Where did he come from?” asked Piers as he stared at him mysteriously, trying to hide his giddiness.  
Steve didn't hear him as he ran to his position. 

 

_What am I thinking?_

 

Café: R.W.B was fifteen minutes away from closing. The clock showed it was almost nine, and the last customer had ordered a biscotti to go. Piers was down behind the cashier picking up any visible bits of food when he heard the door open. He got up to see that his teacher had come in, wearing a black jacket and jeans.  
“Oh, Mr. Redfield, how's it going?” Piers cursed his body for letting his heart-rate skyrocket. He found it hard, very hard to admit to himself that his attraction to a teacher was significant.  
“Hey, I was out and about and I thought I'd stop by. How was your shift?”  
“It was fine. Just kept myself busy by dreaming of a football scholarship is all,” he cursed himself once again for the lame attempt at a joke, but Mr. Redfield laughed.  
“When do you get off?”  
“In fifteen minutes,” Piers smiled.  
“Oh, I see.”  
“Mr. Redfield-”  
“Chris, you can call me Chris.”  
“Chris, what did you do before before you taught our class?” Piers was worried that he would find the question too personal. Chris briefly paused then sat on the edge of one of the tables.  
“I used to work for the United States Air Force.”  
“Oh wow, what did you do in the force?” Piers was caught off guard by how cool it sounded, then became genuinely interested because of his potential future plans.  
“I was a pilot and a marksman. I also did quite a few missions overseas.”  
“Must've never been bored. I bet a lot of training went into that.” Piers wanted to ask why he switched to such a low key job, but thought he better not.  
“You betcha buddy! The air force was my life,” he said, looking despondently at the tiles on the floor.  
“I like the flag you've put up.” It was an attempt to change the subject.  
“Yeah? My buddies hung it up in our camp during training for the military. I took it home and have kept it since. It's a good luck charm, something I'd never let go of.”  
Piers smiled.  
“I'm pretty much done here, I just have to lock the place up.”  
“Alright, do you need a ride?” Chris asked as he got off the table. Piers couldn't resist the offer, as he was already amazed that he had this chance to talk with him. He felt butterflies, good butterflies in his stomach.  
“Yeah, that'd be great, thanks.”  
The two left the café, and Chris told Piers that his car was down the street and parked by the supermarket. It wasn't quite summer, so the night air was slightly chilly.  
“So you and Mr. Burnside are quite good friends, eh?” Chris started the conversation again.  
“Yeah, we've known each other since kindergarten.”  
Chris had set a very slow walking pace. Piers took that as a good sign.  
“So what are your plans after high school?”  
“Raccoon University's a thing, although I'd be content getting a job at the police department right away.”  
“Do you want to be a police officer?”  
“Something like that. I've considered a spot in the military too, but that's far from home.”  
Chris stopped walking.  
“But if that's what you want to do, don't mind the distance. Don't let anything stop you.”  
Piers smiled. Chris looked up at the sky, then continued walking.

They reached the grocery store and he pointed out his vehicle. It was a sleek, black muscle car.  
“She's a beauty!” Piers commented.  
“Thanks, she was a reliable car for driving across the country.”  
Chris walked around to the driver's side and popped the key in, unlocking it. As he got in, the car rocked very little, showing how strongly built it was. He reached over and pulled up the lock. Piers opened the door and got in. The leather seat seemed to envelope him. Chris was almost touching him, being such a big guy. He turned the key in the ignition. The engine was loud and hoarse, sending a light jitter throughout the car. Chris had one hand on the wheel and one behind Pier's headrest as he reversed, turning his head back to look behind him, lightly grunting. It was turning Piers on. They drove out of the parking lot onto the main road.  
“So Piers, where do you live?”  
“I live in an apartment complex north from here, I'll direct you. Thanks again man.”  
“Anytime.”  
The music wasn't on, and Piers was listening to Chris's deep breathing, wondering what to say. It felt indescribable being so close to him, watching him delicately navigating the wheel, sometimes taking sharp turns for fun. Piers rolled down the window and leaned his head out, taking in the night air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris take his eyes off the road and admire him. Piers sat back down in his seat. Chris took a deeper breath compared to his usual pattern as they slowly but sharply turned a corner, then sped up towards the end. Piers felt himself going hard, and had to re-adjust the way he was sitting to hide it.  
“Turn on your next right,” Piers said.  
“Sure thing.”  
One more right turn, and they would be on the street of Piers' residence. The car was climbing a generally steep hill. Chris slightly slowed the car down, even though the motor could easily take it. He sped up once again as he reached the top and took the final turn.  
“Piers,” Chris said. The car was cruising down the road, almost reaching the complex. Piers had his right elbow resting on the car door, and his left hand flat (almost) on his inner thigh.  
“Yeah?”  
The car came to a stop just outside the apartment, and Chris quickly leaned over, the sound of his crinkling black jacket audible, and kissed Piers.  
Piers didn't move at first, but then he threw his arms over Chris's shoulders and kissed him again, fiercely. Chris wrapped his huge arms around Piers' back and pulled him onto his lap, with Piers complying; moving his legs to help him get into the position. Piers could feel a large bulge under him, and pushed himself into Chris's chest while still kissing him, feeling his large, muscular pecs up against his own. Chris's nine o' clock shadow was lightly scraping Piers' face, magnifying his enjoyment. Piers pulled one of his arms from around Chris's neck, and felt the bulge below him. As he did this, Chris started to feel his chest and sides, then stopped. He also abruptly stopped kissing. The rush Piers was feeling came to a halt.  
“What?”  
“We can't do this now. Someone's going to see us,” Chris said.  
“No they won't, it's dark.”  
“I can't take any chances.”  
Piers, still sitting on Chris's lap, leaned back and looked out the car window, then back at Chris.  
“Come over tomorrow. It's the weekend. I live on my own,” he suggested. Chris looked down, sighing.  
“No one will know,” Piers promised.  
“What's your apartment number?”  
“304. Ring the buzzer at the front. Can you come at 1:00?”  
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Chris's voice was low.  
“Yes, I'm sure.”  
There was a pause.  
“I don't know what it is Piers. I see something in you. Dedication, care.”  
“You're giving me too much credit. I have a lot of growing up to do.”  
“That's what scares me. You're so young.”  
Piers leaned in for another kiss. Chris accepted, and Piers could feel his lips forming a smile. Piers pulled away.  
“Thanks for the ride.”  
He opened the driver's door and got off Chris's lap, stepping onto the sidewalk. Chris closed the door with a half smile. Piers started walking to the complex, and he turned his head to look at Chris again, then kept going. He heard the muscle car drive off into the night.

Piers decided to take the stairs up to his apartment. They were harder to climb than usual, as his knees were weak and shaking from the dying excitement.  
He entered 304, but didn't follow his usual routine of binging on food. He didn't turn on the lights either. Piers went straight to his room and closed the door, taking off his shirt in the process. He turned on his small, bedside lamp and stared at the dinky set of weights on a black metal stand, up against the wall. He stretched his arms and picked up two, thirty-pound dumbbells. He lifted one, then the other, then the other one, and so on. Every time he did so, he lowered the dumbbell just as slowly as he brought it up, tensing up his whole body. Pier's mind started to move fast, going over every event of the night. He thought of everything he said. Everything Chris said. Everything he touched. Everything Chris touched. His arms started moving faster. Piers let out a hoarse grunt of exhaustion and set the weights back down on it's stand. 

In Piers' room, there is a floor to ceiling window. Every night, Piers would close the curtains, darkening the space. But before he went to bed, Piers left the curtains wide open. He took off the rest of his clothes and climbed into his mustard-colored sheets, bringing them up to his waist. At 1:00 a.m. he turned on his side, looking out the large window. He wasn't used to the light. Most of the city ones were out, but the red light on top of the police department was very visible. Piers had locked his eyes on it.  
Blink.  
The light went out for a second, then proceeded to come back on. He slowly closed his eyes.

_'I'm on top of the city.'_

Piers left his apartment at 11:00, wearing a thick white tank-top and red basket-ball shorts. The weather was beautiful. Clouds were in the sky, but it was primarily blue and the sun was shining. He made his way through uptown and walked past Café: R.W.B.  
“What the heck do you eat?” He mumbled to himself, wondering what to get Chris for lunch. The thought of him coming over made Piers nervous. That thought was blocked by another when he remembered his favorite Chinese restaurant.  
“Take-out it is.”  
Piers turned into an alley as a shortcut to reach the next street over. It was a thin path. He took notice of what looked like a chalk drawing on the brick wall down near his feet. It looked like a red and white umbrella. He reached the end, and saw that the street wasn't as busy as the previous one. Piers quickly j-walked to the hole in the wall called 'Golden Dragons.' He pushed the glass door open, admiring the reds, golds, and traditional artwork. Knowing that he was going to see Chris again made him feel fluttery, overjoyed, and unfortunately, too kind for his own good.  
“Hello, how are you today?” He asked the young Chinese lady at the front desk.  
“I'm good, how are you?” She smiled brightly.  
“I'm just fine! How about yourself? I mean... sorry,” embarrassment washed over him.  
“Can you give me a minute? I'll be ordering to go.”  
“Of course,” she said. She wandered over to her manager, speaking her native tongue as Piers sat down in a lobby chair, grabbing a small paper menu. 

Piers walked out of the Golden Dragons with his foam take-out boxes in a bag. He stood on the edge of the sidewalk where the sunlight was about to be cut off, wondering if he needed anything else. He was a virgin, but he knew he needed protection. Piers wondered if Chris would bring it. He knew the folk that owned the local drugstore, and didn't want to buy condoms from them. That would sure raise some eyebrows.  
He took a chance that Chris would be a responsible adult and do the dirty work.  
“ _Adult_ ,” Piers thought.  
“ _Protection_ ,” he thought.  
 _'Are we going to have sex?'_

Piers took a detour back to his house, which involved passing the Raccoon City Police Department. He thought about stepping in and asking about the job requirements.  
He neared the facility, gazing upon the building's gothic beauty. It was reminiscent of a church, or a castle. Piers had always wanted to go inside it, but never found an important reason to. Outside the main gates, a bulky man in a red vest stood chattering away. He stepped aside. 

_BAM!_

“Oh shit!” Piers said aloud. Now in plain view stood Chris, responding to the man in the red vest. Piers ducked behind a short hedge growing in a grass verge, between the sidewalk and the police department's perimeter walls.  
 _'He didn't see me.'_  
After his heart-attack subsided, curiosity commenced. He couldn't quite hear what the two men were talking about, but he wondered why Chris would be outside the police station.  
“---likely, Barry.”  
The thought of Chris having second thoughts, and reporting Piers for what happened last night was quickly dismissed, for many reasons. Piers was careful with how many times he let himself peek out of hiding. Chris seemed to be looking down at the sidewalk regularly, although. He was thinking. It wasn't long before himself and the man in red passed through the imposing entry gates, leaving Piers' sight.  
“What is he doing?”

Piers decided to head back home through the route in which he came. Back in his apartment, he had an hour and and twenty minutes to wait for Chris, if the man was punctual and didn't take too long in the station. Sitting nervously on his brown corduroy couch wasn't going to do; staying still when he was nervous only gave him stomach cramps. While gazing upon the empty cans and bottles on his coffee table, he stood up, about to clean the place. Wait.

 _'Messy is manly. Should I keep it messy?'_  
Piers took the empty containers and stuffed them in the trash, picking up other bits of garbage along the way, tidying but not polishing. He went to his bedroom to see what kind of state it was in. Clothes were sprawled about, mostly sport clothes. He stuffed them in his drawers regardless of whether they were dirty or not. He took his small football trophy from on top of the cabinet, near his front door, and placed it on his bedside table. He also re-arranged his weights and pulled the set away from the wall, closer to his bed. Manly. Piers smelled his sheets. They weren't too odorous, he doubted Chris would care either way. Odor is manly. He took a step back and admired this new... shrine. It somehow looked more dominant.  
 _'All of this is being done for...when we make love. When we have sex. I'm going to have sex... with Mr. Redfie-'_

He shuddered.  
 _'I mean Chris, if we do have sex.'_  
He couldn't help but delve into his thoughts. He thought about the way he looked. Piers took two dumbbells and started lifting, hoping his veins would be bulging for when Chris came, and to feel the burn, to feel some sort of tone in his muscles which would boost his self-esteem.  
But then an hour passed by. And twenty minutes, too. Piers was back on his corduroy couch when his plastic intercom rang. Without hesitation, _fuck it_ , he pressed and held a button below the speaker.

“Hey!” he said cheerfully.  
“Hey, how's it going?” Chris sounded happy. Piers liked the sound of his reassuring voice.  
“Great! My room is on the third floor, 304.”  
He pressed another button which unlocked the front door to the building, and simultaneously let go of it with the sound button after a few seconds. He's done it. He's let the man in. He rushed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, fixing his short hair that didn't need fixing, which has grown out from a crew cut.  
The first knock was loud, but the last two weren't. Piers smiled at himself in the mirror. He wasn't practicing, it was a genuine smile. He went to the door and opened it.  
In the doorway, Chris seemed extra tall. His short brown hair was gelled casually, and he was wearing a royal blue t-shirt with black shorts. His muscles looked perfect with no jacket over top to conceal them. A Greek god. He still had that light, 9 o' clock shadow that Piers loved, and at last, he was carrying a white plastic bag hanging just above his running shoes and ankle socks, which Piers found to be sleek.  
“Hey soldier,” he said with an innocent smile.  
“Hey, come in!” Piers closed the door once Chris stepped in. Chris looked slightly shy.  
“It's great to see you.”  
“You too, I've been waiting all day.”  
“Nice pad.” He sauntered past the brown couch and stared ahead out the main window, dropping his plastic bag on the coffee table. He turned back around, facing Piers. They both wanted to make a move, but felt it would be too sudden, yet simultaneously they opened their arms, and Piers put his around Chris's waist, and Chris put his around Piers' shoulders. They kissed.  
“I brought Chinese food,” Chris said when they finished.  
“Oh shit, I did too.”  
They chuckled. Piers could see a less bold side to Chris that he certainly didn't see when he first met him.  
“I guess we'll have leftovers.”  
Piers went on his tippy toes, trying to lean in for another kiss, when Chris swiftly picked him up. Piers laughed out of excitement, then Chris kissed him as they became eye level. Piers wrapped his legs around Chris's waist.  
“I'm happy to be here with you,” Chris smiled.  
“You don't know how happy I am that you're here. Y'know, last time we were eye level I was tempted to kiss you, right in front of the class in that desk.”  
Chris smiled and kissed him again. He started carrying Piers to the bathroom.  
“My bedroom's up ahead.”  
“Oh.”  
Chris turned and they both went past the couch and television, reaching Piers' bedroom door near the main window. Chris stopped and lowered Piers to the ground, who once again had to crane his neck to look up at Chris. The sight of Piers' bed made him ask a question.  
“Are you very sure this is what you want?”  
“Words can't describe it,” he said seriously, then continued.  
“If you don't want to do this right now, we don't have to.”  
Chris kissed Piers, but this was in response to his question. Piers smiled.  
“I'm sorry, did you bring... some protection?”  
Chris pulled a small pack out of a loose pocket in his shorts.  
“We're covered.”  
Piers went to his curtains and closed only his thin white ones, that still let light shine through. Piers pulled off his shirt, and halfway through this motion, Chris pulled his off too. His skin was almost olive in color. His chest was _slightly_ hairy, and the most noticeable hairs were around his nipples. His pecs and abs were nicely defined, and his shoulders were broad. Piers was _hard_. In turn, Chris was impressed with Piers' body. He could see that the kid worked out, or ran at least.  
Piers put his cheek against Chris's chest, hearing his bold, fast heartbeat and said, “How about you take those shorts off too?”  
Chris smiled and put his thumbs in his waistband. He started to pull them down, showing Piers that he was pulling his underwear down along with them, and stopped, looking to Piers for approval. Piers nodded, and Chris finished, finally exposing himself. He threw his shorts on the bed. Piers guessed he shaved his pubic hair a few days ago. His circumcised penis wasn't humongous like he envisioned, which provided relief knowing it wouldn't hurt as much. He looked to the ground, then to his left in settle embarrassment, smiling. Piers noticed this and proceeded to pull his shorts down too. He didn't shave down there, and he too looked away in embarrassment. He then grabbed Chris and pulled him closer, and shivered at their intimate contact; their naked bodies right up against one-another. Piers laid himself face up on the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge.  
Chris bent down over him and placed his forearms on either side of Piers' shoulders, holding his big heavy body up so he wouldn't crush him. Piers loved the feeling of Chris' dominance. He wouldn't want anything more than a man like Chris on top of him. Piers wrapped his legs around Chris', so their calves were touching. He could feel leg hair.  
“I want to do this the right way,” Chris said.  
With his left arm he grabbed a single condom packet out of his shorts pocket, all the while still holding himself above Piers. Strength. He carefully opened the packet and took out the condom, then drew himself back and was about to put it on Piers. Piers wanted to let him, just so he could feel Chris grabbing his dick, but he stopped him.  
“I want to do this the right way.” He put his hand on Chris's shoulder, and guided him to stand up. He took the condom from Chris and started to put it on him.  
“Piers, no.”  
“This isn't a game,” Piers laughed.  
“I don't want to hurt you.”  
“Trust me. I want to be broken in. I want this.”  
He finished putting the condom on. Piers was nervous, but he trusted Chris.  
Chris grabbed his shorts and pulled another shiny packet out. It was lube. He teared the top off and squeezed the lube out onto his palm, then worked his magic to spread it around where it needed to go.  
“And now comes the part where you take me. Remember, I want this. Okay?”  
Chris bent down and kissed him, then again on the neck. Piers maneuvered himself backwards so his whole body was on the bed, no legs off the edge this time. Chris got on the bed and crawled forward over top Piers. Then, purposely like a push up, he lowered himself down and continued kissing Piers' neck.  
“You're so fucking hot, you know that?” Piers said. His sex drive was kicking in.  
Chris was getting into the rhythm of moving back and forth. He hadn't put it in yet. Piers had wrapped his arms around him. He could see veins in Chris' biceps, but it wasn't gross webs of veins like in major bodybuilders.  
“You can put it in.”  
“You're ready?” asked Chris, breathing heavy. Piers nodded. Chris grabbed his dick with his left hand. Piers took a deep breath. The tip reached the desired location. He made eye contact with Piers, who looked back in approval. Chris slowly pushed it in. The head was halfway through, and Piers' breathing became noticeably rapid. Chris kept it moving as slowly and gently as he wanted it to. The lube helped soften and quicken the process.

 _Just relax, it's in. This is meant to be._

Piers' eyes were closed. Chris kissed his neck.  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah. Keep going.”  
Shortly after, Chris stopped. It was in far enough.  
“Are we good?” asked Piers.  
“You tell _me_ , soldier.”  
“Call me soldier again,” Piers winked.  
“I think we're good.”

Chris started to slowly pull back. For a split second this worried Piers, as he felt that they were rewinding their progress, but he realized, of course, that this was meant to happen. Once again he carefully pushed himself forward, then back, and so on. A rhythm was developing, and Piers started to feel an unusual sensation. It was a different kind of sexual pleasure, a new kind of build up. This feeling of pleasure, of the teetering back and forth inside him, begged for dominance, and his knees became weak. Piers had to use his upper body more than his legs to move himself. Chris' 9 o'clock shadow brushed against his neck and face. Their bodies rubbed against each other, and Chris' mid-section was between Piers' upper thighs. Piers wanted to wrap his soul in Chris. Tingling. Moaning.  
I love you.  
Chris gripped Piers' hands in his, stretching Piers' arms past the pillow.  
Chris, now that he was able to move at a faster speed, came closer to reaching an orgasm. To Piers, this was nothing short of a dream. The pain he initially encountered subsided, and he was now reaching a state of ecstasy with someone he loved. Down below his bowels, for the first time, his prostate was handing him joy. Piers could feel Chris' body tensing up and let out the occasional noise. Chris was a cage he was enveloped in. His exposed penis stroked against Chris' abs, further stimulating him. Piers moaned and looked to his side.  
“Fall in line, soldier,” Chris said in between breathes with a quick smile.  
“Yes, Captain.”  
At this moment, Chris was Piers' everything. They had a connection, and this elating feeling (like a good falling dream) came from Chris and drew itself into Piers, pushing itself through his system and reaching his throat. He breathed the connection. Chris was passionate towards the military. He saw something in Piers. ' _Dedication, care._ ' Piers will join the military.  
Piers rocked himself to Chris' ways, eager to keep his prostate rubbed, which his body desired, but his mind wanted it to never end. Unfortunately, all things are eventual. He experienced his orgasm, a blinding light in behind his rectum, while restrained by Chris' muscle. Chris sensed this, and with that knowledge he was sent over the edge, seeing this being below him experiencing pure pleasure, caused by him. Chris let out three large breaths after his body became less tense, and lowered his head down beside Piers', lightly kissing him on the cheek, eyes closed and smiling. He let go of Piers' hands. After pulling out, he turned onto his side, exhaling, and his back faced the window, his right arm supporting his head. He laughed quietly. Piers did too as he turned his head to face Chris.  
“That was the most amazing moment of my entire life,” Piers said.  
Chris placed his hand on Piers' chest. His body shielded him from the light, and it reminded Piers of a mountain range.  
“It _was_ amazing,” Chris responded. Piers unintentionally mimicked Chris by tenderly rubbing his hand on Chris' chest.  
“Thank you,” Piers said.  
“For what?”  
“For this. I don't know how - ”  
“Don't thank me for anything.”  
Chris kissed him.

As Piers opened the glass shower door, Chris closed the bathroom one. Cheap, show-girl light bulbs bordered a vanity mirror, and the shower floor and walls were covered in small, square, turquoise tiles. No natural light shone in here. There was no need to undress, they were already naked. In the square shower, a glass cage, Chris and Piers reached for the handle at the same time. Chris stopped, and let Piers turn it. Smile. The handle was on hot, but for a moment, cold water spewed out, hitting the side of Chris' chest who was turned sideways, watching Piers. He jumped back and laughed, and Piers stood in front of the spraying freezing water, sacrificing himself for Chris. The water turned hot and relieved Piers' cold back. He sighed.  
“Much better.”  
Chris took Piers by the waist and pulled him against him. The glass walls started to steam up, concealing the world of the bathroom, leaving them alone. They started to kiss. Piers then kissed Chris' wet chest, closed his eyes, and pressed the side of his head against it, wrapped in Chris' arms. Like anything living, he heard a heartbeat. Chris leaned his head back against the glass, also closing his eyes. They didn't speak or move, just stood in silence in a temporary paradise.  
“Piers?”  
“Yeah?” He looked up at Chris. Chris paused.  
“I have to tell you something.”  
“What is it?”  
There was another pause.  
“You won't see me on Monday.”  
“Oh.” Piers didn't want to ask why. “That's okay.”  
“I had to quit.”  
“What? You had to quit teaching?”  
“I'm sorry.”  
Piers thought about how he wouldn't see Chris every second day of the week. He was devastated, but thankful for what they had established. He hid this sudden disappointment.  
“Don't be sorry... but I have to ask why. You only taught for a week.”  
Piers briefly wondered if he quit because of him. Panic.  
“There was an opening for a job at the police department. They've created a new police force, S.T.A.R.S.”  
Relief.  
“I eventually came to Raccoon City because of my old buddy, Barry. He's a part of it. He said with my military background, they'd hire me no question. They called me in, fast. Turns out I didn't need a job in the meantime.”  
“That sounds amazing. I'm happy for you, Chris.”  
Piers realized why he saw him outside the police department earlier that morning.  
“Teaching, I... I can't. It's not where I belong, it's not my duty. They're thinking of recruiting me to the Alpha Team, for God's sake. My skills need to be used _there_.”  
“Then it's good you quit. It was meant to be.”  
“Thanks.” Chris kissed him on the top of the head. “Now I just have to deal with an angry principal.”  
They both laughed.  
“I think the good you'll be doing for yourself _and_ the world working with S.T.A.R.S. will outweigh the fact that you have an angry principal on your tail.”  
Chris smiled, and Piers leaned his head against Chris' chest, hearing his heartbeat again. Chris listened to the water hitting the tiles.  
“I guess this is the start of another chapter for you,” Piers said.  
“Another chapter indeed.”  
“I'm joining the military,” Piers said suddenly.  
“You are?”  
“Yes.”  
“Just yesterday that was an idea.”  
“I know, but it's something that's been nagging me for a while now.”  
“There's great virtue in serving your country. I would know that with my experience. If it's what you want to do, then do it. I fully support you.”  
“I'll join after I graduate.”  
“Moving away isn't so bad. With you living on your own, you're halfway there. It's a minuscule concept compared to what you'll be doing for the United States. But I've gotta say, your parents have let you go, but will they let you go... away? Off to the military?”  
“I'll have a good talk with them, I promise. I won't just leave them like that.”  
“Okay. If you follow through with this, you can talk to me also, I can help you out.”  
“Thanks.”  
Piers kissed Chris, feeling like the discussion was becoming too parent-to-kid, but he appreciated Chris' words greatly. Chris lightly pushed Piers back against the tile wall and gripped his hands, holding them away from his sides, so playfully, he couldn't escape.  
The hot water never ran cold.

 

Outside the apartment building, a vanilla sky was taking place, as Piers would say. A sunset had developed, lighting up the mountains and the sides of the buildings in downtown, but the sky was still a dark blue in the east with clouds that were peach in colour. Chris was carrying a small bag of leftover Chinese food.  
“I've had a great day. I really needed this.”  
“We both did. I needed _you_ ,” Chris said.  
“I'm going to miss you at school.”  
“I'll miss you too, soldier.”  
Chris put his arm around Piers.  
“But I'm glad you joined S.T.A.R.S.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah, just be safe, okay?”  
“In the line of duty you're never safe, but always honourable.” He winked at Piers. “Remember that, if you go where you plan to go.”  
“I will.”  
They kissed, uncaring that someone might see them. Chris pulled his car keys out of his pocket.  
“I guess I'll see you 'round?” Piers asked.  
“Yeah, I'll see you 'round.”  
Before Chris walked away, he held Piers' right hand and looked into his eyes. He let go, and as he headed to his black muscle car parked beside the curb, he waved goodbye. 

As the car boomed off, away, Piers stepped off the cement and onto the wide grass verge. He breathed in. The Arklays, mountains, the city which he once referred to as a town. It was grand. He knew that Chris would always be out there, somewhere. He arched his back as if sliding down a sphere, a good falling dream. _Breathe_. He wondered, for the future, if they would still see each other. Chris will be a busy man, and Piers was leaving for good after graduation. Maybe someday, possibly years from now they will. He still breathed the connection that was at the back of his throat, and that air filled him with a drive for fight, for freedom, an instinct recently born to prepare him for the havoc-laden journey to come.


End file.
